


Watching the Dark

by Dillian



Category: The Avengers (2012), Thor (Comics), Thor (Movies)
Genre: And his friends who are each awesome in their own way, And his huge belly-of-doom, And maybe some squeeful fluffiness at the end, Gen, Loki's immense cleverness, Nightmares in Dreamland, Terror along the way, Thanos' colossal ego, Volstagg's awesome eating abilities
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-19
Updated: 2012-12-21
Packaged: 2017-11-19 00:31:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 21,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/567029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dillian/pseuds/Dillian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Had it been he who menaced Asgard, Loki had surely been content.  That it is Thanos however, and that he menaces not just Asgard, but Loki himself as well, that changes the equation.</p><p>This is the tale of how even a fallen Prince can find allies, when need drives him sufficiently, and of how, with those allies, he can accomplish great things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Fearful Dreams of a Lonely Prince

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Imprisoned by Odin, Loki faces Thanos and his vengeance alone.

**_The Avengers_ , and _Thor_ , and all situations and characters thereof, belong strictly and solely to Marvel Comics. This is a fan-work, meant for enjoyment only, and not for any material profit.**

_”Keep the blind down on the window_  
Ah, keep the pain on the inside   
Just watching the dark.   
Just watching the dark.   
Ah he might laugh but you won't see him   
As he thunders through the night   
Shoot out the lights.”  
– Richard Thompson 

Alone. The four walls of his prison mock him. If the Warriors Three were here they'd mock him: Loki, who always wants to be by himself; now he's complaining that he's lonely? That he has too much time on his hands? If this is his only complaint, he should count himself lucky. He is a traitor to Asgard, and this punishment of solitary confinement is light in the extreme.

Probably, they think it too light. They would like to see him chained somewhere no doubt, and suffering unimaginable torments. They would like to see him deprived of his powers and thrown down to wander Midgard, as was done to Thor, for the relatively small crime of invading Jotunheimr. It galls on them, surely, to think of Loki Silvertongue here, safe and comfortable in what were his own rooms before he became a prisoner, that are different now, only because of the magical wards Odin has put on them.

But those wards: How much is kept from him that he never even knew he wanted, because of them! They hold him here in his rooms, and they bar... They must bar visitors from entering, that is the only logical conclusion he can make. Else why has no one come? Surely there are some yet, who have not turned away? Where is his (adoptive) mother? Where is his childhood's playmate, Sif? – Where is Thor, who swore every time they met, that he would be brother to the end, no matter what? He was always right there to taunt Loki with his superior skill at-arms. He was always there to belittle the magical contributions his so-called “brother” had made. Where is he now, when Loki actually needs him? Where is he when he needs comfort, some kind of comfort, and the company of another's presence and voice?

Silence, only silence responds to his questions, spoken aloud. – And why not? Who is here to listen and make comment? Who will notice if the Sly One talks to himself? – If, finally, he is driven mad by the sheer pressure of being alone?

How the others would laugh if they heard him in his self-pity. Loki pictures them: He imagines Volstagg's huge belly-laugh, the sly comments Hogun would make, and the mirthful look that he'd see on Fandral's face. His friends? No, they were ever Thor's friends, not his. They tolerated his presence only because the Thunderer made them, and they made sport of him as if it were payment for their having suffered him to be there. He wonders if he is more relieved, or sorry that they are not here now. Is he – Can he be? – desperate enough that he'd rather mocking companions than none at all?

He is not, Loki tells himself. He has a mind, he has inner resources, and he has his powers, such powers as he can use, closed up in this cell. He casts himself down on his bed, willing his thoughts away from lonely, unproductive channels. He will ...He will amuse himself. His hands move in the air, and he conjures: A serpent, a wolfling, a raven. Child's playthings all. His magical beasts are nothing to keep a grown man busy. He conjures a scrying surface out of the basin he was given to do wash his hands, and seeks to catch a glimpse of what is going on outside his chambers. This proves to be impossible. Of course the wards Odin has put in place stop him. He conjures a book, but when he opens it, the pages are blank. He'd have to draw on minds outside his cell to fill them, wouldn't he? And this, apparently, the All-Father cannot allow.

Why not, he wonders? When did he ever use telepathy as a weapon? When did he use mind-control? Can Odin really be thinking of what he did to the scientist and the assassin while he was in Midgard? Did he really fail to notice that he was doing Thanos' bidding, and with Thanos' own sceptre? Having that added power to draw upon was intoxicating, but it was not his power. Power like that comes only from long practice, and Loki has ever focused his practice elsewhere.

He kind of wishes now, that he had not. Perhaps if his telepathic abilities were stronger, Odin could not block them. He would be using them now to amuse himself. ...No, better: He'd be using them to _free_ himself. If he could communicate across distance as effectively as his ex-ally, if his mind-control powers were as great, he'd have the entire palace guard – Nay, Heimdall himself! – breaking down the doors of his cell and freeing him.

Picturing it, Loki falls finally into a restless sleep. Images crowd in, then change themselves. He is watching guardsmen crowd forward, a mass of them, faceless in Aesir armor. Then the image changes, and it is the Chitauri he sees, those faceless, mindless hordes, in their crude armor. Then it changes again.

Everything's dark around him. He's standing on solid ground, on a rock, surrounded by ...By nothing, and the vague sense of something moving, shadows maybe, or clouds. He's in his battle armor, he notices, and something's coming at him. He knows it the way you know things in dreams, with no reason for knowing it, and he braces himself, hands fisted, feet wide apart, waiting for whatever it is to hit.

“Who’s there?” His voice sounds echo-y and hollow, in the weird acoustics of this place. He's heard acoustics like this before, but where? Where was it? “Whoever you are,” he shouts into the weird, hollow-sounding darkness, “I demand that you show yourself!”

“Don’t you know me anymore?” A disembodied voice, coming from close, and so unexpected that he loses his balance, and almost falls. Loki knows that voice. Oh, he knows it, all right. Is he armed? He looks down at his hands, but there's no weapon there, not a sword, not a spear. And does it matter anyhow, he asks himself? Does his foe not have hordes he can draw on to destroy him?

“I don't know you.” It's a lie, and they both know it. “Show yourself if you want me to.”

“Prince of Asgard.” No response at all to his words, and what is a Liesmith if all his lies are ignored? The voice is gentle, suave, a lover’s caress from a lover not sane. The mind behind it, Loki knows, was ancient before the first Aesir babe babbled and shat itself. “You failed me,” his host murmurs, “and you made yourself so easy to find. Did you not know I would come for you?”

“Blame yourself, Thanos.” Weak, puny defense that it is, he throws it like a weapon. “It is your army that failed.”

Thanos' bellow of laughter comes right into his face, and so unexpected that he staggers backward, and almost falls again. “Loki Liesmith: You'll lie with your last breath, won't you? My little Prince of Asgard, my little _fallen_ Prince: You've fallen far, haven't you? And so fast! Look at you standing here unarmed, and barely able to summon the battle armor you were so proud of. I choose not to see you in it. Watch what happens:”

Cold wind, suddenly touching his bare body directly, tells Loki he is naked in front of him, but he summons the will not to look down. He will not give Thanos the satisfaction.

The laugh that follows sounds satisfied enough without that, though. “Your pride's still intact at any rate. I'm glad. It would be boring to break you too easily, Loki of Asgard.”

“You think me so weak?” How to answer something that could be anywhere, on any side of you? Loki speaks into the darkness, toward the place Thanos was when he spoke last, for whatever that's worth. “You will not break me at all.”

Another laugh. The pure, untroubled pleasure of a child, pulling wings off a captured fly. “Spare me the defiance. You were already half-broken when I found you. How long do you really think you can withstand?”

All at once, Loki feels the pain of tiny, hot-sharp – Blades? Nails? Flame-points? – ...He feels the pain of tiny _somethings_ , tearing at his skin, all over his body. There's a giant shove, and he's falling, his body spiraling through nothingness.

He wakes with a start, in his own bed again. The pain is there, but it's already fading. Dream-pain? This was just a dream, surely? He hasn't slept well ever since his fall from the Bifrost, his nights ever tormented by nightmares and terrors. This was just another such, was it not? 

And it was just a coincidence that it involved Thanos? Loki leaves the safe haven of his bed. He crosses the room and grabs candles, lighting them with shaking hands. In spite of himself, he can't help looking around, scanning the room with their dim light. Foolish! As if he'll find Thanos hiding in the shadows! Feeling ever more the fool, he raises his shirt and to inspect his body. Of course there are no marks on it. His pale skin is untouched, no cuts, no stings, no burns. Whatever Thanos did to him, hasn’t harmed him physically, and even the pain is starting to subside now. 

Brusquely, he straightens his garments and stalks back to the bed, telling himself he's wasted enough time on dream-terrors. But as he reaches to extinguish the candles, he hesitates. What if Thanos is waiting for him again? What if this is the punishment the entity has for him, that he should never be able to sleep in peace again, that his every night should be haunted like this one? Loki shivers. He is alone, completely, completely alone. Odin will not help him. – Perhaps, indeed, he foresaw this very development. Perhaps he is allowing it, as fit punishment for Loki's crimes.

Where is Frigga? Where is the woman who was mother to him for so many years? And Thor, who said he would never give up on his “brother”: Where is he?

Huddled under warm bearskins, Loki fights sleep. His green eyes look out, scanning the room again and again, in the dim light of the candles. In truth, he has always been alone, hasn't he? He is an alien, cast out by his true father, and brought here to be raised where he could never fit in. Loki the Liesmith? Loki the Silvertongue? Say rather Loki the Stranger, Loki who will always be a Stranger, wherever he goes. Loki is for Loki because he must be, because no one else is. – Because it is no life, always to trail behind the Storm God, using his own power only for another's ends. He will get through this, Loki tells himself. He survived the fall from the Bifrost, didn't he? And he survived the real torments Thanos visited on him when he was in his realm. Can he not more easily, survive these imagined ones?

It is a while before the fear dissipates, though, and even after it is gone, the piercing loneliness of knowing he is completely alone, facing this threat lingers on. Loki stays where he is, huddled under the bearskins on his bed. The cold light of dawn finds him there, and if it illuminates a face filled less with calculating intellect, and more with simple unhappiness, than Loki pretends, well there is none to see anyhow.


	2. Dark Nightmares, and Unexpected Relief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki never thought he'd be so glad to see the Thunderer again.

The next night, though he vowed it would not, sleep comes again. And with it, comes his same visitor from beyond the realms. Loki stands before him as before, naked, helpless, unable even to see his tormentor in the darkness.

“Why do you do this?” he asks.

“Why?” Where does the voice come from? And whence the soft touch that curls against his naked hips? – It's going to turn painful in a moment, he thinks, his heart thudding in his chest, but it does not, and then it is gone. “Loki of Asgard, surely you know. Surely you remember our deal.”

“Midgard? The invasion?” It takes all his strength just to stand there, just to answer with his normal pride. “It was your army that failed. I owe you nothing.”

A laugh. It comes from everywhere and nowhere. “What does a mouse owe a cat?” Another touch, and this time there is pain. Skin being flayed, falling away in wet strips, and the blood running down his legs to pool around his feet. It will all be gone when he wakes up, Loki tells himself that, but how does that bring comfort? Does it not just mean that Thanos can do this to him over and over and over?

“You strayed into my realm, my sweet little failed Prince.” A gentle stroke along his chest. How long until the painful, cutting starts there too? “You're mine now.”

His to do what he wants with. His until Loki pays out the debt he owes with his own agony, or until... “For how long?” Dry-lipped, Loki forces out the words.

A pleased laugh. “You already know. You aren't stupid. Until I tire of you, of course, and then...”

A huge shove hits the middle of his chest and Loki flies backward. He falls, and falls. – There is time to picture the landing, the horrible bleeding mess Thanos has made of his back, and how that will feel hitting whatever sharp, jagged surface lies below. ...There's time to think that he will never land, that this will be the dream he never wakes from. 

– And it is pure surprise when the falling stops with a huge jolt, and he is in his own bed, instead of lying mangled at the bottom of Thanos' pit. And at first there is nothing but the fear, and the ugly, solid awareness that this is just one of many nights that will be spent like this. It is only afterward that the anger starts.

Night comes again, and this time, Loki vows, there will be no sleep. He gathers the candles Odin has given him for light. They are a small, their light but short-lived, when lit normally, but an incantation makes them glow with the brilliant, powerful light of a dozen lanterns. He finds the stack of books that was put in here with him: All of them, he has read before, – A book is a book to the Aesir apparently. – but they will do. He will make them do. He forgoes the ale that is sent up with his evening meal, and makes do with pure, cold water, that has no soporific effect. And darkness finds him, not in his warm, restful bed, but sitting up on a hard chair in the bright light, determinedly reading a book of adventure tales that he first read in boyhood.

And it is this night of course, that he has a visitor. In truth, he is surprised when he hears the sound of footsteps stopping outside his door. A hand pushes the door open and at first he thinks it a dream. He looks into the face of the Storm God and wonders only how soon it will be that Thanos reveals himself again.

“Loki?” Thor's voice is the same rough, friendly voice he's heard since childhood. 

“B-brother?” It is his own voice that breaks the spell. This is no dream. But why is the Thunderer here, when he could not be bothered to visit before now?

“Brother, you are pale.” Thor drops down on Loki's bed and stares at him. “Your hands...” He takes one in both his big ones. “They're like ice.”

Loki steels himself. He would be all ice. How dare Odin send one of his minions now, when he is most vulnerable? What game is he playing? “Much you care,” he murmurs.

“You mean because I did not come before? I was on Midgard, brother.” Thor frowns. “I was repairing the damage you caused.”

The damage the army caused. The failed army, who's loss Thanos punishes him for every single night... For a moment, the memory of it swallows him. He is back in the cold, stinking darkness, waiting for whatever new pain is to be his tonight. He hears Thor's voice only dimly. “...You are a representative of Asgard. It was a point of honor for Father that I...” 

“Honor?” Loki wills himself back into reality. He gives a snort of sarcastic laughter, throws it into the face of his so-called “brother”. “You amuse me mightily. Odin has no honor.”

“Because he lied to you?” Thor's look is that of concern, but his voice is tired. Of course, this is an old subject for both of them. “Brother, you are a member of our family whatever your parentage.”

It is a very old subject. With half his mind, Loki wants to dismiss it with the scorn it deserves. He is _not_ a member of the family. He is the cuckoo in the nest, the serpent the All-Father has nurtured in his bosom, but he is past that, he's got an identity of his own now. Only once he dismisses it, Thor will leave. And once he leaves, how long before Thanos is back?

“You know that is not true, Thunderer.” His voice holds condescension. Almost… it is the voice of someone for whom all this is still new. “I was never more than a hostage to Odin, a bargaining chip for use in negotiations with Laufey.”

“But all that is over. Brother, why must you stay rooted in the past?”

It's only now that Loki realizes his hand is still between both Thor's warm ones. The comforting feel of the touch... Even if it is but an illusion... Gritting his teeth, he pulls his hand free.

“Brother, don't be like that.” 

“Stop calling me that! I’m not your brother!”

The predictable response: “You are ever my brother.”

“Then why did you not visit before?”

And so the roundabout has come full-circle: “Because I was on Midgard,” Thor says, “fixing what you had destroyed.” He rises, looks toward the door, and Loki realizes he will be alone again in a moment.

“Brother, don't leave me!” The words escape without him willing them, but, faced with the thought of another night of dreams, he cannot find it in himself to will them back. His fingers feel like ice again. He has to clench them to keep from reaching out for Thor's warm ones. He bites his lip. All his assurances that he can make his way by himself, and now he is reduced to this?

“Do you want me to stay, brother?” Thor sounds happy. He thinks Loki wants him to stay out of love. He has no idea that his presence is a tool, a way to ward off the sleep, and the inevitable, terrifying visitation that will bring. Let him think that, Loki tells himself. At least the oaf will be useful for once in his life.

“You’re so cold, brother. Let me bring you some more blankets.” 

“Yes.” – Loki thinks: The blankets are in the linen presses near his mother's bedroom. Pathetic weakling that he is, it makes his heart drop to think of being alone even long enough for Thor to get them. – “No.” But the Thunderer was ever protective of his younger, weaker “brother”. He will not be stopped so easily. “Here.” Loki pats the bed next to him. “Lie with me,” he says. “You can get me warm that way.” 

Thor kicks off his great boots. – Uncharacteristic; he has learned manners on Midgard. – He lies, not just next to Loki, but right under the bearskins with him. “I’m truly sorry that I couldn’t visit you sooner,” he says.

In truth, the warm, solid body of his would-be “brother” feels good. He could sleep like this, Loki thinks, and for once perhaps, his dreams would be peaceful ones. But danger lies this way: What would Odin say if he found his precious firstborn, cuddled with the black sheep of Asgard? “I know.” He makes his voice brusque. “Of course you are. You are ever honest, Thunderer.” 

“As opposed to yourself, brother.” There is no sting to the teasing, and Thor's hand is gentle, as he strokes Loki's hair away from his face. “You were ever the clever one, Loki. – Do you want me to sleep here? It would not be the first night we've spent together, and this time at least, I am confident you will not wet the bed while we sleep.”

Family teasing, memories that go back to both their early childhoods: With an effort, Loki wills away the promise of comfort they offer. “No,” he says. But he cannot force himself to drive the Storm God from his room just yet. “Tell me something about Midgard,” he says.

“A story to help you sleep, brother?” Let him think that, Loki thinks. There will be no sleeping for the Trickster tonight, not if he can will it away.

“Tell me about that desert place you fell to,” Loki says, “the place where you met your woman.” 

“New Mexico?” Thor speaks of endless miles of dry sand, of tiny mortal communities, and the people that live there. His words do not interest Loki, but the rise and fall of his voice is comforting. Loki listens to it and, listening, his eyes close.

When they open again, it is to a room lit by full daylight. Loki realizes he's slept the night through, and with no visit from Thanos. Why was that? A moment's thought: He remembers a heavy weight in the bed next to him. He remembers warm arms around him, and the soft rumbling voice of... Oh yes of course, Thor was here. He talked about scrambled eggs and coffee, and a Midgardian pastry called Pop Tarts. Typical, that it should be food. Unbidden, a smile comes to Loki's lips. He'll have to tease his brother about his obsession when he wakes.

...When he sees him again, rather, for the other side of the bed is empty. Thor must have slipped out while he was asleep. It was not a bad choice on his part, Loki thinks. He is a prisoner, and surely the All-Father does not want his favored son spending time with him. Loki knows Thor though. He is nothing if not loyal. Perhaps the loneliness of his imprisonment will be lightened, now that he is back from Midgard.


	3. A Lady Visits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First Thor, now Sif: Soon Loki will be the most-visited man in Asgard.

“Where is he? Where is the bastard?”

A crash outside his door: What is there in the long, empty hallway that could fall over and make such a noise? A moment later, the sound of struggling: It is a guard who has fallen, or been pushed perhaps. But did the All-Father _have_ guards outside the door? Why would he need them? Surely the magical wards he set on the place were enough?

“Useless... – Get out of my way!” It is a woman’s voice, upset and angry. A moment later, the door slams open and Sif stands in the doorway, with her hair disordered and a furious light in her dark eyes.

“Loki.”

“My lady?” The rage seems misplaced. It seems ill-timed. Where was she when Loki was brought back from Midgard? He thinks: Can he remember even seeing her? “You seem troubled.” The pretense of complete innocence has helped him so many times when he knew full well of his crimes, but this is the first time he's used it when he had no idea why the other person was angry. “How can I help?”

Angered or not, the Lady Sif is beautiful. Her hair, loose for once, tumbles in dark curls over her shoulders. Her eyes flash fire, and her slim, fighter's body is tense. “What did you do with him Loki?” Her bosom heaves. She looks fit for the leadership of the Valkyries, a sight to strike terror as well as admiration in the hearts of all who see. “What... – _How_ did you do something? What magic did All-Father leave you, that you can use outside this cell?”

Magic? _Outside_ the cell? And he'd not have used it before to get free, if he had it? – At least, to get some books he hasn't read before from the library? “In truth, I know not of what you speak, My Lady. Pray sit.” He gestures to the chair at his small desk/table. “We can discuss whatever has happened.”

“Thank you, I will stand.” Sif leans against the wall with her arms folded, her eyes still flaring with banked rage. “I believed you when you said you knew not how the Frost Giants got into Asgard, Loki. I have learned since then, how little trust your words deserve. What happened to Thor, Loki? What did you do to him?”

“To Thor.” He echoes her words, trying desperately to understand their meaning. And what has happened to his brother? Did the All-Father find out that he spent the night in his cell, and punish him for it? Is he confined somewhere? – Surely Odin would not banish him again for so small a disobedience? “What did happen to him, Sif?”

She rounds on him. “You'd like to pretend you don't know.” Her hands are on his shoulders. She'll be shaking him in a minute. “I was sorry – Sorry! – when you fell off the Bifrost, Loki, but then after you were gone we found out things... How much you were doing that we didn't even know about... And now after what you did on Midgard...” Only instead of shaking, she clutches. Tears start falling. “Loki, L-Loki, I know you're jealous of Thor, but did you have to take his soul away? He's just lying there ...just lying in bed, and he doesn't see any of us. – Doesn't know any of us.”

She's honestly crying now, and Loki finds his arms going around her without any thought. He has no thought to give. – His thought is mired in confusion. Thor's what? He's unconscious? He's conscious but with no memory? “Sif...” One word only, because what else is he possibly going to say? He strokes the back of his old playmate, brushes her tumbled hair away from her face. “Oh, Sif.”

“Oh, Loki.” Just for a moment, she clings to him, but then she pulls away. “Nice try, but I know you for the liar you are. What did you do to my best friend?”

Something happened to his bro... – To Thor... But what? “He just lies there?” Numb, Loki can do nothing but echo Sif's words. “He doesn't see you?” Old age can do this to people, he knows. Old age or illness. But the Aesir know not old age or illness. It is their gift from the Goddess Idunn, who shares golden apples from her orchard with them all. “It has to be magic...”

He only knows he's spoken aloud when Sif rounds on him, in a fury all over again. “I know it's magic,” she says. “He breathes, and his limbs can be moved, but he does not move them. He doesn’t respond, no matter who speaks to him. I watched Frigga...” Her voice catches. “She touched him, called him 'son'...” Tears cloud Sif's blue eyes.

Frigga, who raised Loki from a baby. Frigga, who was never anything but a mother to him. He thinks about the touch of her soft hand, the gentle tones of her voice. Unexpectedly, tears are in his eyes as well. 

“ _You_ did it,” Sif says. “Only you have magic enough. – All I want to know is why? Why, Loki? Was it out of jealousy? You were ever jealous of your brother, I know.” 

Only he has magic enough: But that is not true, Loki thinks. Frigga brought magic to Asgard. It is part of her birthright as a goddess of Vanaheim. And Odin is a formidable spell-caster as well. But even as he thinks that, he pushes the thoughts away, repulsed by the idea that his parents... That Frigga, who is good and loving, and Odin, who values his precious heir above all things, would even think of harming Thor. But if not them, then who? 

“It was not me,” he says aloud. “I could not have done it. – Sif, my magic is sealed inside my chamber.” 

His words have effect. Sif's posture droops, her face goes suddenly forlorn. It is as if a last hope has been taken from her. “I know that's what you say.” The indignation in her voice is but a shadow of what was there before. “But you are ever skilled in deception. I remember how easily you fooled Thor and me, and the Warriors Three.”

The Warriors Three. Those lumpish clods, intent on their womanizing and debauchery: A child's sleight of hand would leave them gaping. In light of the seriousness of the situation, Loki withholds the obvious comment. His words instead, are pure truth. “The All-Father is stronger than me,” he says. “I cannot get past the seal he has placed on my chamber.” 

“But if you didn't, then...” 

“If I didn't, then who did? Yes, that is the question.”

“If you didn't, then why did nothing happen until you came here?” Sif looks at him with eyes of blue steel. “What are you hiding, from us... – From yourself maybe? I don't believe that the secret does not lie with you.”


	4. The Warriors Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Again, more of Thor's friends come calling.

But the secret does not lie with him. Loki stares, unseeing, at the closed door of his cell. Sif is gone, but the questions she asked remain. What happened to Thor? What magic could touch him, here in the very heart of Asgard, and take his mind away? Who is that powerful? – Who, that is free, is that powerful? And why did nothing happen before he came here? He is connected, but how, for he has done nothing?

Eventually, he moves. Routine claims him, such small routine as he has managed to impose on his long, empty days. There is his bedding to be straightened. There is the midday meal to be picked at, tasted and then sent away. – The heavy, greasy roasted meat, and strong ale that make up the Aesir diet are unappetizing, apart from the life of strenuous combat most are free to live here. – There are his books, such as they are, and there is the necessary task of searching out one he can still tolerate re-reading, to keep his mind free from sleep when night falls.

And eventually, night does fall. Gloom envelops him, even here in golden Asgard. Moving quickly to conjure the light that will help him stay awake – Stay safe! – through the night hours, Loki realizes his hands are shaking. His heart is already unsteady, knowing what will come if he dares let his vigilance slip for a moment. There was only the one night of respite, wasn't there? The one night when he had his bro... – When he had Thor with him, and Thanos left him alone. Thanos watches, he thinks, and now that he is alone again, he will be back.

The walls around him feel very permeable, suddenly. He is here in the heart of the Realm of the Gods – He is in All-Father's own palace. – and yet he is not safe. And yet the mad Being who controls the Chitauri, who would control all the Universe, and destroy it in his nihilistic worship of Death, can still get at him. How is that so? How can Thanos get at him here in Odin's stronghold?

It's because he attacks his mind, Loki thinks. Odin has sealed his body successfully, but he cannot block access to his mind. There is a point here, he thinks, something that can explain more than just his own small trouble of not daring sleep for fear of attack. What is it? It trembles right outside his comprehension. But it will not come closer. His mind cannot reach it, not now when he fights twin enemies of fatigue and terror, and tries to keep a larger enemy at bay. Right now, the small lights he conjures are the best he can do, the small interest he manages to generate for reading an adventure book that he was rereading already when he was in leading-strings. If he can but stay awake tonight that will be enough, he tells himself. Clarity will come with the morning light, and he begin work then, teasing out the mystery of what power Thanos holds. For now, he must just stay awake.

He does not, of course. Even gods can only ignore their bodies' needs for so long. Loki fights sleep until the wee hours. He sits up reading old, familiar adventures until far past midnight. Warriors battle giants – Always, it's giants, he thinks and, considering this, he occupies a few minutes more. Younger brothers win with optimism and trickery, what the older cannot keep by force. – Again, Loki stops to think about the difference between folktale and reality and, thinking about it, remains awake a short while longer. Eventually though, he reaches the end of the book. He lingers over the last tale, in which a boy's magic beans allow him to steal a giant's treasure. It used to be Thor's favorite, he remembers. Thinking about his brother ought to keep him awake. -- It should lead to thoughts of Thor's present condition: It is captivity, but by who? And how? And for what reason? – But instead, what comes is memories of him and his brother, both very small, and tucked into bed with Frigga. In his mind he hears her soft voice. The words on the page pause and go on, rising and falling in cadence as she always used to read them. In the end, Loki is lulled to sleep as sure as if his mother were really there reading to him.

Morning comes before he even knew he was asleep. Loki opens his eyes to find the old storybook still open on his chest. His candles are long since burned to nothing, with their enchanted flames dancing above the pools of wax where they used to be. The warm sun of another day in golden Asgard lights his window. 

A good night's sleep carries over into a good day. Simple, animal good spirits animate him. Loki rises, feeling unreasonably optimistic. He does his small tasks of tidying, thinking only of how much better his chambers look now that they are neatened. He washes at the water provided him, and breaks his fast on the roast meat and small beer that have been sent for his morning meal.

It is not until he has eaten that thoughts of his brother – That any thoughts! – intrude at all. Even Clever Loki cannot think all the time. Loki eats. -- There is too much food. There is always too much. The Aesir eat hugely to satisfy appetites whetted by combat practice or other activity, but cooped up here, he's got precious little chance for activity and of course his appetite is smaller. – He pushes the tray away. Then as always, Odin's magic works long-distance, causing it to disappear. Loki watches. One minute the tray is there, the next minute it is gone.

There's something there, he thinks. What connection is his mind making? First the tray is there, then it is gone. It is not his magic, but that of someone more powerful. It comes difficult to admit that anyone is more powerful. His first impulse is always to take steps that will redress the balance. Here in Asgard he used to haunt the royal libraries, ever seeking to challenge himself with new spells, and more arcane information. And then when he was thrown out of his childhood home, when Thor let him fall from the Bifrost, as easy as tossing a kitten down a well: What then?

Thanos was... – He _is_ more powerful than Loki as well. There was a time when there was serious doubt whether he'd be an ally, or a victim of the mad Titan, and he prevailed then... He prevailed because of his wit, Loki thinks. He spun a tale of Midgard patched together out of what he'd gleaned from Thor's mind, and the little he'd seen through the eyes of the Destroyer. He told about the Tesseract, long lost from Odin's Treasure Vault, and corresponding so closely to the Cosmic Cube that was in the minds of all the SHIELD men. And Thanos bought it. He wanted the Cube's power, and he was willing to deal to get it. It felt like a victory for Clever Loki at the time. Now it feels more like a stay of execution. Now with his fate rushing rapidly toward him, the question is not _will_ Thanos destroy him, but when?

But Thanos did not visit him last night. He didn't use his magic, so much more powerful than Loki's, to torment his victim. Why? Because he was using it somewhere else? But magic is not water. It is not diverted from one stream-bed into another, but flows in many ways at the same time, wherever its wielder would have it go. Odin did not stop whatever else he was doing, to fetch Loki's tray back to the kitchen. Why assume Thanos stopped what he had been doing (tormenting Loki) in order to do something else? Maybe he's still tormenting him. Maybe he's found a new way to do it...

There's an answer. It trembles, just past the reach of his conscious mind. A frustration. – For once, Loki is grateful for the long hours alone that lie ahead of him, for they will, he thinks, give him time to solve this puzzle. He is almost angry, when footsteps sound in the hall, followed by shouted voices, and a bang, as the door to his chambers slams open.

Volstagg, Fandral and Hogun, the Warriors Three, so-called. Thor's friends. “Loki.” Volstagg, the largest of the three, surges forward. “What did you do? How did you make this happen?”

_This_? And was he not here before? The déja vu hovers, strong enough to taste. “Let me guess.” Almost, he could laugh, just from the pure ridiculousness of the repetition. Just the day before, Sif was here, and now... “She lies unconscious in her bed, does she not? She cannot be wakened?” Loki pictures someone new coming to his rooms every day, then falling into enchanted sleep the following night. Soon the entire castle will sleep, as in the tale of the Sleeping Beauty in his adventure book.

“You monster.” Volstagg surges forward. He is nose-to-nose (or belly-to-belly) with Loki. “You did it. Else how do you know what happened?”

“Easy.” Fandral the Dashing. “Calm down.” Hogun the Grim. “He is locked up here, how could he have done anything?” Both together in chorus, as they grip Volstagg's arms and try to drag the big warrior back.

But to no avail. “Do you want to take our souls one by one?” Volstagg spits the words, as he would spit ...oh, say, chicken bones, or the little gristle-y bits you start finding as the roast boar gets cold. “What is your goal, Trickster?” 

“You guessed it. I want to take your souls one by one. I want to collect souls, _so_ much more fun than collecting rocks. Plus of course I can't get at the rocks, when I'm stuck in here.” – Oh, sarcasm was ever wasted on these three! – “This is as much of a surprise to me as it is to you,” Loki says. Sif came to me yesterday, asking about my brother. I told her I wanted to help. – How is it that you know nothing yourselves, and yet you expect me, a prisoner, to know so much more?”

“Because you're the one who did it!” Volstagg's enraged shout.

Cutting over him, the voice of reason (from Fandral of all people): “Because you're smarter than us, Loki. That's always been your edge, the only way you kept up with us on the battlefield.” – And thus so easily, he sets at naught hundreds, nay, thousands, of hours of combat-practice. By Odin's wounds, even when they try to give a compliment, Thor's friends can't help showing they think him inferior. 

“Also because this is the third time this has happened,” Hogun says. “And it didn't start happening until you came back here.”

“You might have added that it only happens to those who have visited my cell.” Loki waves to the chairs around his table. “Sit down, good warriors. I believe we had better discuss this before you too, wake up enchanted in the morning.” With a flick of the fingers, he conjures meat and bread enough to keep Volstagg happy. A pitcher of small beer will serve to wet their throats as they talk, but without strength enough to fuddle the already weak minds he is dealing with here.

Fandral sits first. He pours himself a glass of beer, then glances at Loki, swallows uncomfortably, and does not drink.

Hogun sits beside him. He makes no effort even to touch the food. “So you’re saying something will happen to us because we visited you?” Ah, so there is reason inside that dour, warrior's brain.

“It is the logical conclusion.”

“Something will happen because he will make it happen.” Volstagg still stands. His arms are folded over his great belly, and an angry expression, ill-suited to his chubby, rosy face, glows in his eyes. “Do you forget that he brought Frost Giants into the heart of Asgard? – That he sent the Destroyer after his own brother?”

“Yes, and so naturally I am responsible for everything bad that happens. Go check in the kitchen: You will find they have been troubled by rats. I sent those too.” 

A snort from Hogun. “Cease the foolishness, both of you.”

Looking very uncomfortable, Fandral takes just the smallest sip of beer. The expression of relief on his face when he lowers the flagon, and he is still in one piece is comical. “Volstagg my friend, pray sit.” He shoves a brimming flagon into his hand. “Drink.” Then, looking at Loki, “how far has your logic taken you?” he asks. “People are being hurt who have visited you. If you are not causing it, who is?”

“This is the reason All-Father forbade us visiting Loki.” Volstagg drinks, but he does not appear sweetened by having done. “We should not have disobeyed.”

“Oho, so All-Father knows?” Loki shoots him a glare. “Best you go ask him the reason at once then, and stop wasting my time.”

“All-Father is very busy,” Fandral says. “And we have transgressed his rules by visiting you. I doubt he will be eager to stop his important business and tend to us. Help us, pray, Loki. We were ever your friends.”

They were never his friends. The best that can be said of them: They tolerated his presence when he used to tag along after his brother, and that they did with no good grace. But because he bears animus against them, does that mean he wants to give their souls to Thanos?

“There is a powerful Being who seeks to destroy me.” The looks the warriors give him says they have no doubt at all but that he deserves whatever vengeance lies in wait for him. Ohh, why does he waste his time with these three? They are determined to believe the worst of him. “He is outside our realm,” Loki bites off the words. He continues only because he knows he stands no chance against Thanos alone. “But he is able to reach me through my dreams. Good warriors, I think that is how he reached Thor as well. And Sif. I think he attacked them through their dreams.”

“But why?”

“That makes no sense.”

A veritable chorus of doubt and skepticism from his companions, just as if they've got their own, better reasoning to show. Of course it makes no sense, Loki thinks. He's had no time to think this through properly. He barely had time to even figure out that it was happening. If these three dunderheads would go away... And then as surely as they did, it would be their souls forfeit tonight, and who would be knocking on his cell door tomorrow?

“Tonight you will go to bed.” Loki takes a breath. Oh Norns, give him patience with these three. “You will close your eyes, and if I am correct, your minds will be Thanos' playground.” Fandral opens his mouth. He wants to ask who this “Thanos” is that he talks about. Loki shoots him a look, and he is silent. “I think he will take all of you at once, -- Certainly he is powerful enough. – and that will be your advantage. If you can but stay together...”

“And where will you be?” Hogun asks. 

“If my reasoning is correct, I will join you the next night.”

“The next night.” Hogun narrows his dark eyes to mere slits.

“If your reasoning is correct.” Fandral glares, the expression sitting badly on his bland, handsome face. 

“If you want a guarantee...” Loki bites back the words of anger that want to come. _He_ is in danger, that's for sure, and it's beginning to look like he's setting the rest of Asgard at risk by his mere presence as well. He finds that he does not want that to happen as much as he might have expected. “Thanos was my ally. I...” Loki swallows. Being patient with these fools, difficult enough, but to admit failure before them... “I promised him a victory over Midgard.”

“Typical,” he hears Volstagg mutter. “Did you not promise that builder once... And the dwarf who made Mjolnir.” Fandral's elbow to the ribs silences him. Loki has at least two of the Warriors Three taking him seriously at any rate.

“Thanos is dangerous in person,” Loki continues, “but equally dangerous are his psychic abilities. He was entering my dreams and tormenting me. Then, when I received a visitor... – Well, you saw what happened to Thor.”

“And to Sif.” Fandral shifts in his chair, uncomfortable. 

“And if you are wrong, Trickster.” Hogun eyes him, his gaze keen. “If you do not join us in Thanos' dream-realm, what then?”

“Oh, I'll join you, all right. Thanos is not done with me.” Even saying the words, whispers of dread creep back into his mind from the dream-visits he's endured. “The question is, will I be able to find you once there? And that I cannot answer.”

An angry sound from Volstagg. He is forestalled, this time, by Hogun. “But if you are correct, Loki, and we have only until tonight, then we must needs make the best plan we can now.”

“And if you are wrong?” From Volstagg.

“Let us hope he is wrong.” Fandral's handsome face is pale. “If he is wrong, we will all have a good laugh. I will buy the mead at The Three Tuns and we will...” He looks at Loki, then glances around at his prison cell, and his words trail off. “That is to say, the joke will be on him.”

“He is not wrong.” Hogun fills a flagon with beer, and drinks off half in one gulp. “Something is out there, and it menaces all of Asgard if we do not stop it. Have we not all seen the Trickster outwit formidable foes in the past though? If I have to face this Than-Os, I want him with me.”


	5. Loki's Return to the Dream Realm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An unlikely alliance faces the Titan-God. Can Loki hold them together, and deceive Thanos at the same time?

Logic tells him that the Warriors Three are taken that night. Loki sleeps the blest, dreamless sleep that was his the other two nights when Thanos took his comrades. He wakes, and he wonders who will come to tax him with the crime. Perhaps Odin? Three possessions in a row, five of Asgard's best warriors: This is getting serious enough for the All-Father to pay attention. -- Or possibly Frigga? Loki remembers the grinding feel of shame when his adoptive mother visited him after he returned from Midgard: Nothing troubled him, ere he looked into her eyes and realized how he'd hurt her. Oh pray, he thinks, pray let her not come this time, when he would have to know himself condemned in her eyes, _and_ would have to drive her away so that the plans would succeed.

He is relieved when she does not come. – No one comes, and he is all the more relieved. Thanos' behavior has a pattern, thus far predictable: On the days when Loki remains alone, he visits him in his sleep; on the days when he has a visitor, Thanos comes for the soul of that visitor at night. As long as he can stay alone today, Loki thinks he will see Thanos in his dreams when he sleeps. He will... _Can_ he find the Warriors Three once he is in the Titan's realm? Is there any chance of it? All he knows is that it is his only chance. He must return to that realm of dread that he has visited too many times before and, while there, this time he must keep his wits about him and search for the Warriors Three, that they may stand together. Tempting though it might be to think of some people he knows suffering in Thanos' clutches (It might be quite amusing to watch Odin being tormented for instance), he cannot allow it, for with every soul he takes, surely Thanos gains strength, and eventually all Asgard will fall to him if he is not stopped. 

Night falls, and Loki feels his stomach clench, as he crawls between the blankets of his bed. He thinks about the darkness of Thanos' realm, about the cold. He remembers the taunting voice, the face, only rarely seen. He remembers how it is not the pain that is the worst part, it is not knowing when the pain will come. ...Or how. 

His hands work without thinking. All his candles flare brightly, and the adventure book is in his lap. Loki opens it. He discovers that his breath is coming in shuddering gasps. It is by will alone, that he damps the lights, then returns the book to its place on his desk. He brings the covers up close under his chin, – As if his old bearskins can protect from a Titan's attack! – and closes his eyes. And eventually, he sleeps.

The first dream is childish and silly. He is in a field of grass, dotted with daisies. A blond boy toddles ahead of him, and he runs on chubby, baby's legs to catch up. Thor turns. “Hurry up, slowpoke!” He waves a stick he has picked up from the ground. “Today we will catch bilgesnipes!” But they won't. The awareness is like a sickness. The big blond boy in the field with him is an illusion, for the real Thor has already been caught. The bilgesnipe has won.

Thor winks out like a little golden light, and despite everything that has passed between them, Loki still feels the pang. It is physical pain, when he goes. But the field remains. The flowers are still there ...for whatever dark purpose Thanos wants of them.

When the Other appears, Loki is not surprised. “You've come back, fallen Prince.” He laughs, the sound a grating offense against the fields and the flowers around him. “My Master will be pleased.”

“Thanos brought me here. Surely my presence will be no surprise.” It is easy enough to respond to this one, who is servant only. Soon the Master will come, and it will not be so easy. 

The servant laughs again. “A pleasure, but not a surprise. You amuse, Asgardian. Your pitiful struggles, like a spider suspended over a flame, crawling, struggling in your desperate attempt to escape your fate. Some are less entertaining as they die.”

“A compliment.” Loki steels himself. Thanos will be here soon, he knows. “Your Master is kind.”

“You brought gifts.” – The light changes, – Does the light change? – the Other's voice deepens. It ... _widens_ ; it is all around Loki now, and not his voice, but his Master's. And the field, the daisies, what of them? Are they there? Have they gone? Loki does not know. All he knows is that the voice is here, and the voice is everything.

“My little toy, my little fallen Prince. It has been long since I have found anyone who gives as you do.” The voice is different from before. There is an exultant, gloating pleasure to it that disgusts him. Loki focuses on the disgust; it is a _stronger_ emotion than fear, he thinks. “You give gifts. – Would you like to see what I've done with your gifts, Prince of Asgard?”

Loki swallows. No, no, a thousand times no; his mind floods with the desperate wish _not_ to see. He can just barely stand this if he does not see, he thinks, but if he does... If he has to watch his brother (not brother!), or Sif, or the Warriors Three, and see the torments they endure at Thanos' hand... He has to stay strong. – One of them has to stay strong, else their doom is sure.

“Don’t you?” Amusement thickens the disembodied voice. “Do tell me, my fallen Prince, is that fear I see on your pretty face? -- Tsk, you're not looking good. Have you had trouble sleeping?”

A chuckle. – No, he's not in the field any longer, Loki finds himself thinking, for the sound is all wrong. Thanos' chuckle echoes like ...like church bells, he thinks, against the walls of whatever dark cavern he's been brought to. “But I am generous. – Thank me for my generosity, Loki of Asgard. – I will show you, though you neglect to ask.” 

Loki closes his eyes, but it does no good. The images are in his mind, he thinks. He sees Thor turning, searching on all sides for someone, anyone. The golden boy, everyone's favorite: He thought he'd have laughed, to see Thor lonely like him for a change, but somehow he is not laughing. And Sif: Her strength is gone, her weapons are nowhere. She faces this empty world in petticoats, trapped in a woman's role. Once again, there is revenge here, surely so sweet. How many times has he been relegated to the woman's role himself? – How many times has he been told, and by Sif herself, that magic is for women only, and he unmans himself by practicing it? You'd think he'd feel something like pleasure? And yet what he feels – _All_ that he feels for some reason! – is a despairing regret, to see childhood friends so humbled. 

...And hope. There is a tiny ray of hope. Where are the Warriors Three? Why does Thanos not show their fates too? Is it – Can it be? – possibly, because they have not met with them yet? Have those three lummoxes, those roisterers, good for nothing except brute battle and crass entertainment, actually found it in themselves to stand firm? Do they wait, drawing strength from the thought that Loki is coming? 

“You are cruel.” He shielded his mind – A few times! – from Thanos when he was in his realm after he fell from the Bifrost. The question is, can he do it here in the dream-realm? For that, no way to know but to try. “They are the fates I've always dreamed for them. But I see only two. Did not three more of my comrades get taken?”

Thanos laughs. “The tubby one? The womanizer and the brawler? What fates had you pictured for them, my Prince?”

“But that is simple.” Loki turns a smug smile Thanos' way – What he _thinks_ is Thanos' way, in this realm where he sees only what he is shown. “For Volstagg, a Tantalus' feast, ever present, and yet receding when he tries for a taste. For Fandral... But come, Master of the Chitauri. I'd see yours, sooner than spin my prisoner's tales.”

“Once again, you amuse.” Oh, the pleasure, the _condescension_ in that voice! “Every time I think I will grow bored, you surprise me yet again. We shall create their fates together, Prince of Asgard. Here, let me show you them.”

It is the colossal egotism that is going to win him this. Scarce any shielding is needed, for Thanos is so impressed with himself that he assumes others will be impressed as well. At once, light shows like a window opening. Loki stands in the reeking cavern he expected and there, adjoining and just past the stalactites, stand the Warriors Three.

They are clustered together, and their frowns speak of confusion. They are not dead, Loki thinks. They are not lost in nightmares like Thor and Sif. His advice to them has borne fruit, but it was not just his advice. These three that he thought hopeless wastrels have managed to hold on. They stand together, weaponless and disoriented, but ready to begin the defense they planned together.

“Loki!” Relief is palpable in Fandral's voice. “When you didn’t come, we thought…”

“ _'When you didn't come'_?” Thanos' voice is merry. – Uggh, the thought of him merry! – He thinks he will present new sacrifices to Death soon, Loki thinks. “What is this, Prince of Asgard?” he says. “Do I sense a betrayal here?”

“Betrayal?” Volstagg jerks a look his way, then turns back to his friends. “Did I not tell you: Loki is ever for himself.”

Hogun puts a hand on his arm. “Hsst.” He eyes Loki warily.

“Welcome.” Thanos’ voice echoes, disembodied as before. The Warriors glance around, trying to find where it's coming from. “This is not the reunion I expected either. But it is not the first time Loki of Asgard has surprised me with the depths of his perfidy.”

“Perfidy?” Doubt shades Hogun's voice, and Loki feels a flare of anger. Is the Warriors' trust in him so fragile, to be broken as easily as this? “Who are you?” Hogun demands. “What are your plans for us?”

“My plans? Say rather Loki's plans. I put myself entirely in his hands.” A chuckle in that voice: Uggh, agony, anyone's agony, delights him so! ”It is a signal achievement for my pet Prince: Thanos does not usually allow another to dictate to him.” 

“Thanos?” Fandral's voice shakes, but he answers, and Loki feels his respect growing, for one he once thought good only for squeezing a tavern girl's fanny. “Master of the Chitauri? Titan-God?”

“The same.” Loki pitches his voice low, ashamed-sounding. He did not expect to see Thanos trusting him, it was not in the plan he constructed back in his cell, but how useful now, to find it so. It will make it so much easier to turn the tables ...soon. In just a little while. “If a god would serve another,” he says, “best that it be one higher than himself. And you are the only one higher than the gods of Asgard, are you not, My Lord Thanos?” 

“Not the only.” Egoism suffuses the voice; vanity is as ever, a potent intoxicant. “I would place my servant The Other above you as well. ...Albeit, barely.”

“I propose a game, My Lord.” Loki throws a cold look toward the Warriors. He hears Volstagg's snort of anger, as his gaze goes back upward, toward ...wherever it is that Thanos has placed himself. “Hope disappointed is surely more amusing than mere, immediate terror. These men know only victory.” – He calls to mind their many defeats of him on the practice-fields, and lets bitterness shade his voice. Well Loki Liesmith knows that truth makes a lie more convincing. – “Let us give them some failure for once,” he says. “Let us...” – Pretended thought. – “Oh, let us have an eating contest: The fat one thinks himself quite the trencherman. Why not show him what a Titan can do at table, My Lord?” 

“An eating...” The pause: It is the sound of a Titan confused, for once in his long, long life. “I am above such material needs. If you do not know that by now, Prince, you will have to be taught.”

“But you can eat?”

“Oh, certainly I can.”

“And you are a Titan, and above the Aesir as I am above... Oh, as I am above a mortal of Midgard. Surely it would be the work of moments to defeat this puny warrior,” – Volstagg! Puny! Has he inflated Thanos' ego enough to get that one by? – “and then I will create similar torments for the others.”

A pause, long enough to make him wonder whether he has failed. Then Thanos laughs. “It shall be as you say, Loki of Asgard. I will provide food, and we shall compete, this Asgardian against myself. Nay, I will go further. I will offer a prize: His freedom” – 

“Say rather, all of their freedom, My Lord. – Nay, let us say their freedom, plus that of their erstwhile comrades, Thor and the woman. Think how their hopes will be dashed, with so much at-stake before the inevitable failure.”

– “All of their freedom then. And that of the others. You are convincing, Prince.”

The air changes in the miserable cavern where Thanos has put them. The air shimmers, it seems to grow larger. A Presence is with them: In size, he is scarce larger than Volstagg, but he gives off an air of largeness. It is his face, Loki thinks, that cracked, ancient face of his, that was old before the Universe was in infancy.

“Consider yourselves honored, Asgardians,” Thanos says, “for I am gifting you with my presence.”

They've all seen monstrous beings before. The Warriors Three have battled with Ogres, Trolls, Werewolves... – And Frost Giants; Loki swallows his discomfort as he remembers their most recent engagement with beings from another realm. – Thanos' appearance is passing strange, but there is an aura about him as well. One cannot look at him, Loki thinks, without sensing the aeons he has spent in pursuing his dark ends. It is there in the cynical twist of his mouth, and the dark, malevolent glow of his eyes. He drops to his knees. The position serves well to reinforce his pose of submission, but in truth it is involuntary. Thanos' presence makes an impression on him, as well as on his comrades. 

Once down, he bows his head. He can feel his gorge rise, can hear shocked gasps from the Warriors Three. A Prince of Asgard should bow to no man! But if this is to work, it must be done well. In truth, is this not just one more deception? One more lie, from the God of Lies? 

He steals a glance upward. Is there a smirk, can that be a smirk of pleasure on Thanos' face? Impossible to gaze directly into that seamed and ancient horror for long enough to be sure. 

“I am honored.” He continues his own pose as though he knew for sure. “I am sure my comrades are as well.”

A snort from Volstagg. “I seek no honor from alien overlords, unlike some,” he says, throwing a nasty look Loki's way. “I will accept this challenge only to show you the true strength of a warrior of Asgard.”

Thanos chuckles again. “How quick you are to rush toward your own defeat. Your phenomenal girth will be as nothing, compared with my ability. – Have you any idea who you deal with, fat warrior?”

“I care not.” A little amazed, Loki sees that Volstagg is looking directly into Thanos' face. Is it that he does not fully understand the Titan's power, or does the courage of a challenge accepted give him the strength? “Though I battled against all the Nine Realms together, against any, in or out of the known Universe...”

“Good.” There is a clinking sound, and a table appears before them. Five places are set. “Perhaps all of you will join us?” Thanos looks from one to the next, with an amused expression. 

Is this what the Titans eat? Is it Chitauri food? Bowls of blackish, bluish goo sit at each place, their surfaces bearing a faint, opalescent sheen like tar. Steam rises, but it is a cold steam. Loki swallows. Can even Volstagg the Voluminous be expected to stomach this mess?


	6. Feasting at a Titan's Table

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Volstagg proves adept at eating the inedible, and all Loki's past failings are trotted out to serve as a distraction.

“Come.” Thanos pulls out a chair at the head of the table and sits. “You are not re-thinking your challenge surely? And without even tasting what I have provided?”

“Courage my friend.” By some effort of will, Fandral keeps his debonair smile, but he throws a glance at the plates of food (if such this mess can be called) and his face goes greenish. “Tales will be told of your valor.”

“This is a battle like any other.” Hogun claps Volstagg's shoulder. “You fight for the honor of Asgard. And you die, the Valkyries will surely carry your soul to Valhalla.”

Volstagg pulls out a chair and sits. “I will not die.” He tucks a napkin under his chin, clasps knife and fork in his big hands. “The food does not exist that can best Volstagg the Voluminous. Look to your laurels, Titan-God.” He dips a spoon, lifts it. The substance clings, then oozes off as though alive. By a miracle, Volstagg does not look deterred. “Today you will be beaten,” he says.

There is a laugh from Thaos. At his place, he is already shoving the food into his mouth. “One hour,” he says. “I give you one hour: We will see which of us can eat more of this feast I have provided. Your words are vainglorious, stout warrior. They come pitiably, from one who has not yet had so much of a taste of what I offer. Is there more to the Aesir than this hollow bragging?”

Loki dips his own spoon. He puts out his tongue and barely tastes, the food meanwhile, appearing to do its best to crawl away from him. Swallowing down nausea, he barely manages to get a bit into his mouth, where it burns with a caustic pain, as though eating a hole in the tissues.

Under the table, he lifts a hand, works a quick spell just to save himself from injury. Inside his mouth, the taste changes and becomes bearable. The burning pain disappears.

An idea lights in his mind. “Lord Thanos, you set the bar too low in this battle,” he says. “You must make this more difficult.” Rising, he seizes the serving bowl, and adds huge spoonfuls more to Volstagg's serving. That he speaks a small incantation as he does it, is not easily seen. Thanos, with his face deep in his own bowl, does not notice. Loki can only hope that the Warriors Three are more alert.

“Eat. Show Lord Thanos your appreciation for the food he shares.” His tone is sneering, his face, hopefully, shows a little more encouragement. Scooping a spoonful from Volstagg's bowl, he shoves it into the warrior's mouth.

Volstagg makes a little eeping sound as the food comes close, and his eyes grow round and bulging. To his credit however, he doesn't protest, and when the food goes in, he swallows it down willingly enough. Once it's in, he throws a quick look Loki’s way. The taste, now rice pudding-like, hopefully meets with his approval. Then he starts shoveling food into his mouth as fast as possible.

A noise of approval from Thanos. “It seems some among the Aesir at least, have a cultivated palate.” He beams at Volstagg. “Remind me after I defeat you in this contest: Before I send you to your fate, I will allow you to try another delicacy. You start with the souls of murdered children...” 

Loki turns a little green, and he casts a look toward Volstagg, hoping the talk does not disturb him. The stout warrior's got his head down though. He shovels food in as though his life depended on it, – Which it does. – apparently, undisturbed. Then he pulls the serving dish his way and refills his plate. 

Volstagg starts on his second bowlful, apparently as hungry as ever, but Thanos is already on his third. The mighty supplicant of Lady Death may have renounced bodily pleasures, but he seems to have kept his capacity for them. Time, perhaps, for a Trickster to even the balance. 

“This delicacy of yours,” – This terrible, nightmare-inducing delicacy... – “I didn't quite catch the recipe?”

“No matter surely,” said through a mouthful of whatever abomination fills Thanos' bowl. ”It is not what I served you today.” He looks up from his food, casts an eye around the table. “Why look: None eats besides the fat one. Truly, the Asgardians are a weak breed.”

Loki just dips the tip of his spoon. He raises it, eyes the contents with feigned suspicion. “Weak perhaps,” he murmurs. “Our kitchens traffic in the fruit of the field, and the flesh of slaughtered beasts. And yours, My Lord? What do the cooks use in Chitauri kitchens?”

A snort. “The Chitauri eat what I tell them to eat. You do not think I give my slaves such delicacies as this for their tables?”

Hmm, the Chitauri are luckier than Loki thought...

“My own kitchen now, that is different.” – Thanos has not set his spoon down, but it dangles unfilled in his hand. And to his right, Volstagg finishes his second plateful, and eagerly serves a third. – “My kitchen traffics in the fruit of war, and the flesh of slaughtered innocents. Loki of Asgard, is it not enough to make your mouth water?”

On either side, stricken eyes and pale complexions. Simple brawlers, still innocent at heart, Fandral and Hogun both are repulsed. No matter, as long as Volstagg remains undeterred by the conversation.

“You have shown me so much,” – Blocking the memories, holding back any thought of _what_ he was shown after he first fell into the Titan's realm, and of how he was shown it. Now is not the time, by the Norns, now is not the time! – “but never this. Why not, My Lord?”

“Oh indeed!” A laugh. “I was to show all my favorite pleasures to a servant! Do you remember when you came to me, little Prince?”

Loki closes his eyes. He remembers, oh, he remembers. ...But at the back of his mind, the awareness:Volstagg is still eating, and Thanos, for now, has stopped.

“Such an angry little thing you were, talking of your brother, and of the Throne that should have been yours. You wanted revenge, and like a baby, you seized the first weapon that was at hand. Little Prince, little _fallen_ Prince: Not all who wear a man's form are men in their hearts. Yours was the heart of a child, and so easily turned to my purposes. I laughed when you were defeated. My Chitauri are expendable, but look what I gained: I can reach through your mind and touch any in Asgard. Today it will be these brawling monkeys who fall; who knows who it will be tomorrow? Heimdall perhaps? Or the Lady Frigga? Perhaps the All-Father himself?”

Loki feels the eyes of his comrades upon him. Confused eyes, angry eyes, _judging_ eyes. His hands are fisted, nails digging into the palms. A thousand times they looked at him like this in childhood. It was ever his fault with them, never Thor's, never their own.

“Thor cares a lot about you.” Fandral breaks the silence. “How can you talk of revenge?”

“The All-Father took you in.” Hogun looks at him, accusing eyes, under his furred helmet. “He raised you as his own.”

“I know what I am.” Loki's voice is low. For a moment, it is all he can think of: What he is, he is alien, foundling, _monster_. Did he think he could ever fit in with the Aesir? Did he think he could make a contribution?

He hears Thanos' laugh as if from way off. “A child, yes, that's what you were. So easy to manipulate, so easy to knead and form to my own purposes. You begged for a chance to prove yourself, to prove that you were worthy, Prince of Asgard. – And you were eager to lead my army. You'd have jumped into battle then and there, as soon as the sceptre was in your hands. I know you, Loki of Asgard. I know you inside and out.”

“Loki, is this true?” 

Dimly, he hears the question, more clearly, the answers that clamor in his head. Yes it is true, all of it, the bitterness, and the vengefulness, and the delusion. Not enough that he should take arms against a benefactor, but that he should fail at it: Impossible. He is worthless, a thousand times worthless. And now he is being judged in the eyes of those he always thought less than himself, and his one slim chance of redemption is gone...

An elbow in his ribs. His thoughts stop and Loki looks up. He sees Hogun looking at him. The grim warrior jerks his head. Following his eyes, Loki sees an impossibility: Volstagg has the serving dish. He is scraping it empty. This is his eighth serving, is it not? Or perhaps his tenth? Of all men not to be distracted by tittle-tattle, he is the _last_ Loki would have expected, and yet here it is, the proof that he was wrong. A quarter of the contest time has elapsed, and Volstagg eats on. And Thanos? He is too busy talking.

“Your porridge,” the burly warrior grunts with his mouth full. “We need more.”

“Oh yes, yes, certainly.” A wave of one pitted, ancient hand, and the bowl refills. “There now.” He looks at Loki. “What was it you were saying, my pretty Prince?”

“Lord Thanos speaks truth.” Loki keeps his head bowed. The shame and the degradation are still there, but now, with them, a gleam of hope. If Volstagg remains undistracted, and if Thanos doesn't... “It is all true, and more as well. I had no enmity against Midgard, save that it was a plaything of my brother, the beautiful, golden Thor. I sought conquest only so that I might take something that was his. – I'd as soon have taken his woman instead, if I thought I could have turned her heart away from him and toward me.”

“Like when you cut Sif's hair while she slept.” It is Hogun who speaks. Fandral still watches silent, on his face, a mixture of shock and anger.

“Yes, exactly like that,” Loki says. “I could not make her look at me as she looked at Thor, and so I took the golden curls that were her greatest pride.”

“Were you always like that then?” A laugh of pure amusement from the Titan (who is still not eating, Loki notices). “My little Princeling, petty and vindictive from his very birth! Are all the Asgardians like this then?” He looks around the table. Incredibly, his gaze goes toward Fandral and Hogun, and completely passes by Volstagg, who still eats on as steady as a machine. “Tell me, good warriors, do you claim him as one of your own?”

“Who, Loki?” Fandral's eyes are wide. “I never...” He starts suddenly. Hogun has kicked him under the table, Loki thinks. “Never,” he says. “Never for a moment did we truly think him one of our own.”

Deception or no deception, the words hurt. Fandral has never been anything but friendly before. 

“It came as no surprise to any of us,” Hogun says, “when we learned his true parentage. The Jotnar are a brutal, treacherous race, and now, when he gets a little power, what do we see from Loki but treachery?”

And Hogun! The grim warrior was never a friend, but he was a comrade! They stood together in battle.

“How amusing.” Pleasure curls through Thanos' words. “It seems I am using an ancient foe of Asgard to bring down your puny realm. No doubt these ... _Jotnar_ will be grateful. – I shall have to destroy them next.”

“The Jotnar have no love for me.” The words are pulled out of him. Shaming, humiliating, bitter words: Is this deception, or self-flagellation? “Not after I killed their king.”

“You, Loki?” Is this news to Fandral? His expression of surprise appears quite authentic.

Hogun, however, takes it fully in stride. He merely nods. “The story was that Loki offered Laufey the chance to kill All-Father while he slept. Then once he had him there, he slaughtered him where he stood.” 

Thanos seems to have completely forgotten the food. He stares at Loki, an amused grin on his face. “Really, is this true? And this Laufey, he was kin to you?”

Low-voiced: “He was my father.” 

A shout of laughter from the head of the table. Thanos laughs, a grinding sound like bones being pulverized against sharp, sharp rocks. “Truly, Loki of Asgard, you are an accomplished traitor. Already you have killed one father. Soon I will use you to kill the one who called himself your father.”

“Best have a care, Titan-God, lest the Trickster turn and betray you as well.”

Hogun's cool words. Through the shame of hearing his past misdeeds trotted out, Loki feels a chill. If Thanos hears the truth in those words...

Another laugh, smug and incredibly condescending. “You presume to warn me, little warrior? Do you forget to whom you speak?”

Relief floods. But who would have known Thanos would be so vain? “Your petty kings trusted Loki as a man. I use him as a tool. And when a tool loses its edge...” He makes a gesture of contempt, as of flinging something in a trash heap. Sickening bitterness crawls in Loki's chest. He would have Volstagg to win only so he can show up this monstrous heap of vanity ...only so the others will see what a Trickster can do. 

Surreptitiously, he checks the time: Scarce halfway through the competition. Again, Volstagg is at the serving dish, and what of his competition? Thanos must yet be lulled with more tales of Loki-the-Failure. No need for him to tell them any more, at any rate. Hogun takes to the task so willingly. 

“I was there when Loki first learned of his Jotun ancestry,” he says.

“Oh really?” How to describe the interest and pleasure in the Titan's voice? Oh, Hogun is a very Scheherazade! His ability to spin a tale has been wasted all these years! “And who are these _Jotnar_? What sort of creature is my little toy?”

“They are known as Frost Giants: A monster-race, blue-skinned, uncouth given only to fighting.”

Fighting, ah yes. So very unlike the higher pleasures of the mind, favored by the Warriors Three.

“All-Father has made every effort at a treaty with them, and yet they will not lay down their arms. My friends and I have joined many a sortie into their realm.”

“And Loki: What of him?” A greedy voice. “Did he go with you? Do battle against these monstrous kin of his?”

“He went.” A contemptuous snort. “He was never at the head of the battle. Loki's weapons were spells and trickery, and pulling an honest day's combat out of him was a chore.”

Loki bites at his lip. Is this what Hogun really thinks, or is he playing along with the deception merely? He is a master deceiver himself, and by the Norns, he should know this, and yet, he cannot tell. The words spilling from the grim warrior's lips are the ones he's expected all the time they've been together. They go with the little slights, the small criticisms, the expressions half-seen, that have crossed the faces of all the Warriors Three, and his brother's face as well, when they thought he was not looking. He grinds his nails into his palms. There'll be blood there when he looks, he thinks. No doubt Thanos will find that amusing. And Hogun the Grim, what will he think? Will it be one more evidence of weakness, from one who was never “a true warrior”?

“He fought for me.” Thanos smirks. “He was not very good at it. I wondered why he failed so signally.”

“Not very good”? Did he not steal the Tesseract? And the brains necessary to use it? Was it not his work that opened the portal that let the Chitauri in? That cursed horde of mindless drones: Their sheer numbers were not enough to outmatch the courage and intelligence of Midgard's defenders, but how is that Loki's fault? Was it he who made them like that?

Hogun nods, as if in agreement. “Best you should have given him spells to do, and saved the combat for real warriors. – Ah, who fought alongside him,” he asks.

Volstagg's bowl keeps filling; Thanos' sits, still half emptied from before the conversation began. Time passes, and every moment their victory is more sure. And will they win, only to commence fighting among themselves afterward? 

“That was my Chitauri that fought.” Thanos is still quite taken with Hogun's conversation. “They are cannon fodder merely, and need a skilled commander to lead them.”

“And you gave the job to Loki?” Hogun shakes his head, tsking.

Thanos frowns. But even now, even in his anger, his mind is on the conversation, not on the untouched bowl of his food. “Part of my plan,” he says. “A carefully thought-out plan: Had I won, that would have been good, but don't you see, having lost, I gain so much more.”

A tilted head, a curious look from Hogun. -- Fandral still looks from one to another, completely confused. They lost him about the time this became a competition to see who could insult Loki the worst. He has a good heart, Loki thinks, whatever his flaws. – “What do you gain?”

“Think, warrior.” Thanos laughs again, one of his tearing, ripping laughs. “All of Asgard is at my fingertips now, because of your little Prince. I have reached through his mind already, to take you and your friends. It will not stop with you. And what of the Tesseract, that I sent Loki for in the first place? That will be mine soon enough, once I take the soul of your King.” --

“Loki may not be one of ours, but Thor respects him and cares for him.” _Now_ Fandrall decides to speak, the indrawn breaths and wide eyes around the table, apparently telling him that his words are greeted with surprise. “If the son of Odin respects and cares for him, we should surely do the same...”

Thank you, gallant warrior. Loki Silvertongue will surely show his gratitude for those words, as best a prisoner can. ...Provided they can escape Thanos' realm with their lives. 

The Titan looks down at his plate, and it is as if suddenly he realizes where he is, and what he is doing. “Your fat champion:” His voice grates. “You think he has won? The contest is not over yet.” 

“No, but it might as well be.” There is a laugh in Hogun's voice that was not there a moment ago. – That has never been there, the whole time Loki has known him. And this is Hogun the Grim, his taciturn nature so legendary? -- He looks toward Loki, a smile lighting his dark eyes. “How much time remains, my Prince? I saw where you were keeping track.”

“ _My_ Prince”. Two words merely, and they will wipe away all that he said before? No, what will wipe it away, Loki thinks, will be their victory against Thanos. 

“Three minutes left,” he says. “And behold, as Volstagg finishes yet another bowl, and here you are still chatting with us, Lord of the Titans.”

Thanos’ brows draw together. “What trickery is this?” He swipes the serving dish away just as Volstagg grabs for it, upends it over his own bowl. It is empty, the last viscous drops clinging, and refusing to fall into his bowl. In a rage, he grabs Volstagg's bowl away from him.

“This is impossible,” he growls. “That a weak-stomached Asgardian could eat the food of the Titans... I fed that food to Loki when he first came to my Realm. I know it cannot be done.”

“B-but Loki...” Hogun gapes. He stammers, his flair for deception suddenly gone. “He is of another race than we, remember...”

Pointless to speak of course (else Loki had done it already). Already Thanos is shoving a bite of Volstagg's porridge into his gaping maw. A long pause... And then he rises, upending the table in his rage.


	7. Thanos, Enraged

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a Titan is defeated.

“THIS IS NOT MY FOOD! I know not what this is,” – He spits as if offended by the mild taste Loki has conjured. – “this slime, this...”-- Another spit, as he tries to clear the flavor from his mouth. – “This liquid filth!”

The Warriors Three are backing away, slowly, as if not even aware that they're doing it, but it is not them the Titan wants. A reach, a grip, and suddenly Loki is dangling two feet above the ground, his collar tight in Thanos' grip.

“YOU DID THIS.”

The debonair smirk in place: This, Hogun, this is how a real Trickster does things. “Of course.” Even his tone, sweet, patronizing. If you are going to lose, at least lose with style. – And who says he has lost this yet? All thought he had lost when Brokk claimed his head as well. “It was your vanity that made it easy. Tell me pray, Lord Thanos: What would Lady Death think and she knew you'd been tricked by four such _lesser beings_ as we?”

“Liar!” A swing of the mighty arm: By Odin's beard, the floor of Stark's penthouse was softer than the ground in this accursed chamber! “Cheat!” Another swing: Hogun, Fandral, Volstagg, friend warriors, if you are going to help, pray do it quickly! “... _Trickster_!”

Loki's body smashes against the chamber floor for the third time. He is Jotun-born, and near immortal, but that doesn't mean he does not feel pain. Now, he thinks, now he will find out what the Warriors Three are truly made of. 

“Loki is of Asgard.” The deep, rumbly voice belongs to Volstagg. “Harm him, and you harm all of us.” He hears footsteps. But what kind of attack can the big warrior mount when he is unarmed? “Have at you, Titan-God!”

A mighty thump, and Thanos staggers back, almost losing his hold on Loki. It is Volstagg's belly that is the weapon; who had thought Loki would ever have cause to be grateful for that?

“Loki, a sword!” It is Fandral's voice. “Not all of us carry our bodies as our weapons.”

“And free yourself,” comes Hogun's voice. “By the Norns, if ever there were a time for those spell-casting powers you're so proud of...”

A spell, yes. It's like the words wake him from his inertia. Loki thinks the incantation, shape-shifting second nature after a lifetime of practice, and he slides free from the Titan's grip in serpent-form. Ah, but Thanos is clever. Loki-serpent does not have time to change forms again, before a big, booted foot, stomps down, aiming for his head.

Hogun's hands swipe, catching the green coils of his serpent-form right before his sure destruction. “Now would be a good time to change back.”

“You aren't frightened by serpents?” Loki, Aesir-seeming again, steps away from the grim warrior's hold. But now is not the time for repartee.

“The swords?” Fandral's voice is panicked, and he turns to see him crouched, half behind the upended table, and half behind Volstagg, as Thanos approaches.

A conjuration of weapons is an easy spell, albeit not one there's much use for on Asgard. Loki wills weapons for all of them: A sword for himself and Fandral, an ax for Hogun, and a broadsword massive as his voluminous belly, for Volstagg.

“Look to your laurels, Titan-God.” Loki takes the position of defense, familiar from hours of combat-practice with Thor. “This time your victims will be your defeat.”

“You're a cheat, Loki of Asgard.” Thanos rushes, toward Fandral, not toward Loki.

The debonair warrior jumps free at the last possible moment. “More fool you for believing him.” He delivers a smack with the flat of his sword, catching Thanos across the face.

There's no blood where the sword cut. _Can_ the Titan even bleed, so far into such a long lifetime, and with so many dark deeds behind him? Loki can't pull his gaze away from the sight. Will this be his fate too, to be dried out by eternity after eternity of darkness?

Behind him, unnoticed, the three warriors mass for attack. They come at Thanos with their weapons swinging, puny weaklings, dwarfed by his mass. Never has Loki been so grateful for the warlike spirit of the Aesir. All of them have seen Thanos' power. That they can still attack despite having seen it, is impressive. ...And it might just be what gets them out of here.

A massive mailed fist swings. It hits Fandral full in his stomach, knocking him back to land in a heap against the wall. Loki feels his anger hot in his chest. Fandral is a comrade, he will _not_ let him be dispatched so easily. Not thinking about strategy, or what is the best way to victory in this battle, he mutters an incantation, draws a magic circle that catches the Thanos mid-step, holding him in place.

Hogun and Volstagg pile on with a shout. Loki sees their arms upraised, hears the hacking sounds as their swords connect. It is pure foolishness to think they can destroy the Titan-God as they would a mortal combatant, but their attack gives him the cover he needs.

Covertly, he makes his way to Fandral. “You should be fighting,” the gallant warrior murmurs. He looks up at Loki with pain-glazed blue eyes. 

Loki _is_ fighting. Did Fandral not notice... But this is a debate they have had many and many a time before, and now is not the time to have it again. “I should be doing what I do best,” Loki says. “Lie still.” He passes a hand, mutters a few spells under his breath, and sees the blood disappear from Fandral's face, hears his labored breathing become smooth again. 

“By my 'womanish' healing arts, I have saved a warrior for our defense...” He breaks off. Fandral's attention is elsewhere. Already his eyes goes past him, to the battle. 

“He has Volstagg.” 

Following his gaze, Loki sees Thanos' mailed hand, locked around the big warrior's throat. “Not for long.” He looks at Fandral. “Go, you can stop him.” A few words, – Fandral does not even hear them. – and what goes is a second Volstagg. A few more words, and an army of Volstaggs dance around the Titan. Loki cannot hold back the pleased laugh, as Thanos' eyes widen and his grip breaks on the real one.

Trickery is it? It is his ”trickery” that has protected them as far as this, and, with a little thought, it might just get them all back to Asgard.

“Where's Loki?” He hears Volstagg's words, the fat warrior apparently unaware who it was that just saved him. A moment later, and the more proper question would be,“where's everybody,” as another incantation clouds the chamber with fog. Dancing doppelgangers: Lokis, a hundred Warriors Three... – And, a more difficult incantation, the few of them who can actually strike blows, that make it all the harder for Thanos to find his real foes. 

Loki creeps back into the shadows. If they are going to win this battle, he needs to do what he's best at for once, no more pretending that he is a warrior like the others. Loki _thinks_. When the builder would have taken lovely Freya, when the dwarf Brokk would have taken his head: His mind saved the situation when all thought it impossible. All it took was logic, and a little bit of deception.

He's far enough away that the battle just looks like a melee of fog-shrouded figures: He sees Thanos go down. Ducking to avoid a blow, bending to strike? The confusion is such that he cannot tell. Volstagg's mighty red-clad arm swings, but is it the real Volstagg, or one of his doppelgangers? How is he to know? A satisfaction to know that if he can't tell, Thanos won't be able to either.

Keeping so many doppelgangers on the field, along with the fog, is draining his energy fast. It's mind-energy, but it's physical as well. It takes an effort of will that he can feel all through his body. Piled on top of that is the concentration he needs, to figure out what has to be done next.

Loki looks out at the noise and chaos of the battle. He wills his mind blank, but blank it will not go. There is too much at-stake here. He keeps seeing warriors go down, Thanos' blade slicing them. He cannot tell if it is the real Warriors Three who are being hurt, and he dare not move close enough to tell. If only... If only what?

“If only Thor were here.” His lips form the words soundlessly. – A moment later he is muttering another incantation, a shielding spell, as he sees Fandral too close to harm's way. – Then his mind returns to the thought: He needs the Thunder God here. The mighty power of Mjolnir might not be enough to stop Thanos, but it would slow him down, sure enough. But how to get him? Loki thinks of his brother, lost in Thanos' enchantment. What held him there? Why did he not wake? 

It's too much, he cannot think about it. That look on Thor's face the lost, hopeless look, as he searched for someone, anyone anywhere around him, it's too close to how Loki felt himself, when he was lost in the void. All the time he's spent wishing that his brother could feel, just once, as he's felt himself: Did he ever imagine he'd feel such pain when it happened? Watching anyone suffer that is too close to suffering it himself.

“Loki.” A big hand grips him, a burly arm emerging from the fog. “A little help here?” Volstagg grates. 

It's like being wakened, as if a link has been severed. “You idiot!” Loki turns on the big warrior, spits all the emotion that was building in him right at his head. “Blind, clumsy oaf. Do you call yourself a warrior? The fog is there.” – He gestures. – “The doppelgangers are there. Here, there is just one fat hog in armor, inviting Thanos to slaughter him.”

...And if the sight of the big man out in the open hadn't been enough, now Loki's voice is additional enticement. He realizes it, and throws the protective fog around their part of the room as well. He conjures the doppelgangers. He's not going to be able to do it for much longer though, his energy won't last.

“Get back there and _fight_ ,” he tells Volstagg through gritted teeth. “We need you.” 

“I'd say the same about you, Silvertongue.” Volstagg throws one resentful look, but he returns to the combat, sure enough, and Loki is left alone again. Now he must just find a way to use the quiet and figure their way out of here.

He was distracted before by his thoughts, his memories, like being helpless, as if his mind was not his own ...Like the spell Thanos has over Thor and Sif. And what woke him? 

“Half of it's him,” Loki mutters. “Half of it's our own minds.”

He jumps up, stationary no more, for he knows what to do. If he can just get to his brother in time... If the Warriors Three, aided by his spells, can just keep Thanos sufficiently distracted...

Turning back, he throws incantation after incantation: A thousand sounds, sights, distractions, to confuse even the mind of a Titan-God. As for himself, he must find Thor and Sif. He does not think they will be far. They did not need to be, when their own minds provided the distance and the imprisonment.

The chambers of the dream realm are dank, empty, high-ceilinged and sharp-rocked as they always seemed in his dreams. Shorn of the glamor of of Thanos' presence though, with the Titan-God's too busy fighting to extend his influence as he did before, they seem smaller. There seem to be fewer of them. In truth, it seems he could traverse this realm with but a short walk, an hour perhaps at most, for what had felt so vast and never-ending. A good thing, for he must find Thor fast. – And Sif too, his conscience reminds him of his obligation to her. But it is Thor, with his fighting strength, who will keep Thanos occupied long enough for Loki to break his hold and return all six of them to Asgard.

He searches. The first chamber is not empty. He can sense pain here. He hears the footsteps of some other poor imprisoned soul. Barely visible, he can see not one victim, but many. But not the ones he seeks. Loki continues past. 

Another chamber, and a third: Thanos' dream realm is a spider's web, with all his victims nicely trussed and waiting on his pleasure. For half a moment, Loki thinks of freeing all of them: Oh, if only he could! What satisfaction to see the Titan-God's face, when he realized his pretty, weak, _fallen_ prince had stolen these gifts he would give Lady Death! But he dare not. So far from his presence, his illusions will fade soon. It will be only three Aesir warriors, fighting unprotected against Thanos' might. He has to have Thor free to help before that happens.

And the next chamber yields what he is seeking. Ere he goes in, he is hit by the wave of Thor's loneliness. The Golden One is not used to being alone. He turns, – Loki sees him as he enters the chamber. – looks this way and that, with blind, uncomprehending fear on his face.

“Thor.” Loki touches him. Let Thanos' connection have weakened, he prays, let him be able to wake Thor without psychic connection, which would divert valuable power away from the illusions he is sustaining on the battleground!

His brother looks, turns a not-seeing gaze Loki's way. “B-brother?”

“Thor!” This time he puts his arms around him, gives one of the bone-crushing hugs it's always been Thor giving him before.

Understanding lights his brother's eyes. “Brother!”

Weak-kneed relief floods him.

“Never have I been so glad to see anyone, brother! I thought myself alone. ...Where are the others?”

Where Thor thinks he is, is a good question. Does he yet have any inkling of their situation? Loki puts his hands on Thor's arms, looks into his brother's face. “I haven't time, brother. You must go back three chambers.” He gestures the way. “You will find the Warriors Three there, locked in combat with...” –

“With a masked creature? Wearing a black hood?”

“That is the servant. They are fighting his Master.” Loki pushes Thor. “Go.” – Oh, pray let him be able to! Let Thanos' connection be broken enough! – “I must find Sif.”

A nod. Thor _understands_. “But I am unarmed, brother. Can I summon Mjolnir here?”

Loki shakes his head. “I know not. Here.” He conjures a weapon, broad, and heavy to suit his brother's might.

“How well you know my preferences, brother.” Thor grins. “I will find our friends,” he says. “Together we will defeat this adversary.”

They won't. It is to be hoped they will be able to keep him busy at least though, until Loki can release Sif from her spell. After that, with five of them fighting, hopefully he can break the connection that holds them all in this realm. “ _Go_.” He watches until Thor obeys, then turns to his search.

“Join me on the battlefield soon, brother.” There is an urgency in Thor's tone that is not in his usual commands that his younger brother follow him into combat. Does he finally acknowledge the power that Loki’s magic can bring? Or is it merely the fear of being parted from him again, so soon after the loneliness of Thanos' illusions?

For now, there is no time to care. Loki nods. “As soon as I’ve found Sif.”

Loki has studied the incantations for long-distance magic, but he has used them little. The spells he used for the battleground here, were merely the ones he's always used; he has little idea at how far a distance he can maintain them. They drain his power too. None are huge spells, but there is a cumulative effect. It will not do if his magic is exhausted before he has returned them all to Asgard. Urgency thrums in him. It wants to turn into panic, but he fights that away. He cannot, he dare not, give in to his own emotion while his brother and the others need him. 

“Sif.” He passes more chambers, each holding its own cargo of lost souls. Mentally, he searches, looking for the fear and shame that he felt, when Thanos showed him his old shield-partner. “Sif!”

There is no answer of course. Fool he, even to call. It attests to his own fear, that he'd think to get a response from one lost in the Titan-God's spells. Finally, only by dint of long searching, Loki finds Sif, and when he does, she looks at him with blind eyes and uncomprehending fear on her face.

“I am no maiden, but a warrior.” The words are a moan. “Loki, he took my beauty. I have to prove myself by fighting!”

He took her beauty? Memory floods: When he cut her hair... But did not the dwarfs make new tresses for her? True their golden color did not last, but he had never known Sif cared about that. Loki hesitates to go up to her. Even can he break the spell, will Sif trust him enough to go with him?

“You have proven yourself again and again.” The last time he touched her, he remembers, was to put the dwarf-wrought curls into place. He wonders: What will he see in Sif's eyes when he wakens her? “Again and again you have proven yourself. Your hands are calloused; your body wields a sword with skill.”

“Look at me.” Still that same look on her face: Blank fear and pain. “Just look at me, with this ugly dark hair! Why bother trying for beauty?”

The mind-link was easy with Thor, because they were allies. It has only been a few times that he has betrayed his brother. Betrayal? Faugh! He will have none of it. Sif has teased him for his clumsiness with a weapon. She has taunted him when he relied on spells to win a battle. Why do her betrayals mean nothing, and it is only his that matter?

Loki steels himself. And he dwells on these past hurts, he will be as immobilized as Sif. “Sif,” Well Loki Liesmith knows how to gentle his voice and entice those who have no reason to trust. “I am he who did this to you. I am Loki, and I am here to bring you to your friends.”

There is a jerk under his hands. “Silvertongue!” Sif turns, regards him with anger only. “You lie, as you always lie. You are a cheater born!”

“Later, Sif.” It takes all his strength of will to focus on the girl, and not on himself, but that is past anger he sees in her eyes, not the recognition he needs. “This is not the past. I am not here to hurt you. – Wake, pray,” he says, “for your friends need you alongside them in battle.”

“...In battle?” Slowly, true recognition enters her face. “I... But where? And with who?”

How to explain it? ...How to explain it quickly, so they can return to the battle, before he has exhausted his magic? “Sif, do you remember who brought you here?” 

She nods. “It was a man, a man in a mask. No,” pausing. “It was a voice. It was the voice that brought me. The man said he served him.”

“It is the voice we fight,” Loki tells her. I persuaded him to materialize. He...”

Sif's eyes are on him. He sees doubt shading the trust he needs. But that is the way it happened. Why must she question? By Odin's Wounds, why must they always question?

“I had help from the Warriors Three.” A nod from Sif tells him the trust has returned. Once again – As always, by the Hounds of Bor! – it is the answer that will make Loki Silvertongue look bad, that convinces. “Together, we persuaded him to materialize.”

“The Warriors Three? They're here?” Sif grabs his arm. “Loki, we must go to them! I remember that voice.” She shudders. “Materialized, he must be formidable indeed.”

They are running already. Chambers flash by, the moans and cries of their imprisoned cargo still audible, still disturbing. Ahead though, closer with each step they take, he can hear the sounds of battle. Steel clashes, voices cry. But quickly, at the speed they are going, he makes out the voices of his comrades.

“Have at you, Titan-God!” That is Volstagg. Loki had thought him threat only to roasts and mead bottles, but in battle he is untiring.

“My arm! – Curse it, Fandral, you only make it worse.” And Hogun ...wounded? “Go to Volstagg, he needs support.” The grim warrior's mind is still on the fight, despite the injury he's received. Loki hopes that he's still got power enough to heal him. 

“Do not worry my friend.” – Thor's voice. As he hears it, Loki also comes near enough so he can see the battle. Volstagg, who seemed elephantine back on Asgard, is here but a terrier-dog, hacking and nipping at Thanos' leg. The Titan-God stands over Hogun, lying wounded half under the table from their earlier competition and, between them, holding him off, stands Thor. The sword Loki conjured him is upraised. It bends under Thanos' attack. 

“Loki, a weapon.” Sif's voice is urgent.

His power flags. And he gives her one, will there be enough left to strengthen the sword he has conjured his brother?

“A weapon, Silvertongue!” Sharp-voiced Sif; she sounds a very shrew. “As you value your life.”

Still he might have used the power to arm Thor instead, had her shrieking, voice not caught the Titan-God's attention. Thanos turns their way. “Oho, reinforcements?” His voice sounds tired, but not nearly tired enough. He is far from defeat. “Is this my pretty Prince's girlfriend?”

“A weapon.” _...bitch. Valkyrie..._ It is drawing at the very dregs of his strength to conjure them, but he gives her the two swords, the one long and the other short, that she is accustomed to taking into battle. 

“Behind me, Loki.” The shove she gives him is sharp. He would draw back, to try and recoup his strength a little, but pressed against the wall of the cavern, with Sif in front of him, and Thanos bearing down on them both, he cannot.

“Loki, Hogun needs your help!” Off to the side, he can hear Fandral. – He can see him, bloodstained and far from his usual debonair self, waving and calling for help. For once, he fully understands the importance of having a healer with their company... And just at a time when Loki cannot summon the magic to heal. Sif's body presses him back against the cave wall. He'd push her aside, but the moment's respite feels good. He needs time, at least a little time, else he can help none of his comrades. 

“Oho, the girl.” How to say what is in Thanos' voice? It is greed, pleasure on top of cruelty. “I remember this one. She thinks herself a warrior.”

“I am a warrior.” Sif's blade makes contact. More fool she, if she has not noticed Volstagg, striking blow after blow, and doing not a whit of harm. “I've stopped uglier things than you and gone home and had a hearty breakfast.”

And the taunts. Oh yes, let's start exactly where the Warriors Three started, then we can all fail in exactly the same way. But how to succeed? It's Loki who must figure that out of course. 

“Thor!” Shouts heard muffled, through Sif's body, and the noise of her taunts. A red-clad arm, waving.

“I see it, friend Volstagg. He has Sif.”

From behind Sif, Loki raises a hand. He would summon the fog screen from before, but he knows he lacks the energy to do it. He mutters the incantation. A faint mist blurs the edges of the cavern, leaving his comrades exposed.

“You’ve led me quite the pretty dance, my Prince.” A swipe of Thanos' arm, and Sif goes sprawling. “I hope you did not think you were going to get away? Or...” – A hollow, grating laugh. – “Or that you might rescue these other little victims? What was it you said before: 'hope disappointed is more amusing than mere terror.' How right you were.” Behind, to both sides, Loki sees his comrades attacking. Blades slash, Thor's blade, Sif's blade, Volstagg's. None to any avail. They are but pin-pricks to the Titan. “I've enjoyed playing with you, Loki of Asgard, but I grow weary. It's time to finish this.”

An argument, a word of persuasion ...a spell. Ever before, the ideas teemed, but now his mind is blank. Did he really think he might save the others? Did he think he might win victory? Thanos' words recur: _Yours was the heart of a child. You were easily bent to my purposes. I laughed when you were defeated, as you will always be defeated..._ Where are his lies? Where is his silver tongue? Where are his tricks, now when he needs them? 

“Monster!” Sif's words come through only vaguely. “I will not let you destroy any of Asgard.”

“As if you can stop me.” Thanos turns. – For a moment only, he turns. – “Loki was my tool, my servant. You and your friends are my victims. I will take care of your fates soon enough, but first I must destroy” --

_...First I must destroy this unworthy tool._ He hears the words, surely Thanos has said them. With no recourse left, Loki steels for the blow that will follow.

– “You destroy nothing.” Thor's voice. Thor's voice louder and more sure than anything in this cursed cavern. And, following it, the crack of thunder. Loki opens his eyes to see lightning flash. Impossible, isn't it? Has Thor really summoned Mjolnir here, to the dream realm?

“Loki is my brother.” Calm voice of absolute control. “Foul villain, you think I would let him die here, in your clutches? He is coming with me.”

Mjolnir, here? This is no dream. It is no illusion of his conjuring, for he has not the strength to conjure it. This is the real Mjolnir, the war-hammer of the God of Thunder. – It is a crack in the dream realm, through which reality intrudes. Who can tell what will come next? 

“You think you've won, Thunder God?” Thanos' voice. – Thanos, sounding rushed, almost nervous. -- “Loki told me about you. You preen yourself on the effects of your brute force, and yet intelligence is beyond you.”

These are mere words. Where are the actions?

Thanos bends toward Loki again, but his attention is behind him, on Thor and Mjolnir. “You may keep your little playfriends,” he spits. “Take them and go. Loki is mine, in payment of the debt he owes me.”

Half-seen past the Titan-God's shoulder: There is a paling of the dream realm, all around the edges where Mjolnir is. And in the center the hammer shines, more real than everything around it.

“You know that is not how this will end.” Still that calm assurance in Thor's voice. Hel take him, does he know _why_ Mjolnir is their salvation? Does he realize it is the hammer's reality that matters, and not its brute force? Foolish questions. And wasted words, like Thanos' wasted words. Already Loki can see the dream realm disintegrating. Its component parts fragment, dissolve into a blur.

The last Loki sees of it is the Titan's face, impossibly close to his. The last he hears is words grated: “Little bitch-prince would hide behind the Thunderer, would he? You really think the might of Asgard can protect you? This is not the end, Loki. It will never be the end, until you make recompense...”


	8. In Asgard Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Thor is happy, and Odin is grateful, and the Trickster is, unexpectedly, a hero.

The light pressing against his eyelids confuses him. There is a difference to the silence: It is not the echory, lack-of-sound of Thanos' caverns, but the crowded peace of his own chamber in Asgard. Eyes still closed, Loki runs his hands down his body. By now though, he is awake enough that the feel of his old bearskin bed-covering is no surprise. He opens his eyes... At first his heart lifts, just to find himself back in his chamber. Then close-on, there follows a jolt: What of his comrades?

But how to find out? Magic has set his morning meal on the table just as it always does. There come no guards, no messengers. Is Odin's ban on visits still in place? – If he shouts loudly enough, will the old man hear and perhaps come himself? He can stand out in the cursed hall, if caution is so strong in him. His son.... – Not his son... Curse it, _Loki_ – just fought a Titan for the sake of five of his best warriors. Does he not at least deserve to know if they returned safely?

Thoughts crowd, a confusion of thoughts: Anger, resentment, leftover fear from the battle, and small traces of new fear, as he remembers the Titan's final words to him. Out of bed, Loki paces, plucking at the hem of his tunic, and wondering how he can learn what he so desperately craves to know. 

Soft footsteps in the hall outside: He almost misses the sound, so consumed is he by his own thoughts. Then he hears the latch lifting, and he turns toward the door. Frigga's face in the doorway is a surprise.

“Mother?” He does not go to her. Too much has passed, and he cannot give way to the childish longing. But she comes to him. Her arms go around him, and he smells the sweet almond-and-rose scent that was always hers.

“Loki.” The same soft voice as always, and there is no rejection there, no judgment, despite all he has done. “My son. You came back, but I could not go to you because I dared not. And now...”

_And now what?_

“Mother.” He cups her hands inside both of his and looks down, seeing only love in her eyes. “What of Thor, Mother? Is he back too? And Sif? And the Warriors...”

She cuts him off. “So many questions, child! How can I answer them all at once?”

 _Thor then: Tell me about my brother._

“Thor came and woke me this morning. He told me a story of how you had broken his enchantment. Even now, he is with your father, Loki, and telling him the same story. It was a brave rescue, and will earn you your freedom surely.”

“It was not my own only.” Whence comes the honesty? Perhaps only from the knowledge that Odin will hear of the part the others played regardless, and will think better of him if he acknowledges it from the start. “I had help. The Warriors Three, and Thor: I could not have done anything without them.” Loki swallows. The next bit is harder. It will take away freedom barely promised, and not yet delivered. “Neither was it a complete rescue,” he says, low-voiced. “At the last, ere I woke, I heard Thanos' voice: His claim on me is not broken. Mother,” – It is the hardest thing he has ever had to say. – “I cannot accept release from this prison for, if I am free, will this whole thing not start again?”

“You must talk to your father about that.” Frigga's voice, as always, soothes just by the mere sound of it. “He wants to talk to you now, Loki. I came only to bring you to him. He wanted a messenger, and I offered, because it has been so long since I have seen my son.”

“Mother.” A thousand beautiful memories flood his mind. He remembers cuddling close, while Frigga read stories, and carrying the basket for her, while she picked roses in her garden. She is Mother because his heart believes her so; irrelevant that they do not share the same bloodline. “You know what I am. – You know what I did.”

“I know you are my son. I have been hoping that when you came back, you would be ready to understand that.” 

Together, they leave the cell. Together, they walk the corridors leading to Odin's throne room. Then the great double doors open and he is walking down the golden carpet toward All-Father's throne. Ahead, he sees Odin talking to Thor. – To his son. But what is his connection to the old man, who took him as pawn for his negotiations, and yet raised him as a...

“Father.” At the foot of Odin's throne he kneels, and calls him by the name that he has always used, whether it is true or not. Does it matter right now if it is true? He has more important matters to consider, surely.

“My son.” Odin's face is above him, as it was when he was a child. He looks up, and try as he might, he can see nothing but love in the old man's one-eyed gaze. “I heard what you did, how you saved not only your brother, but his comrades as well. My son tell me, why? Why did you do it?”

Why? At once the anger starts. Before he can speak however, Loki hears Thor's voice. “Father, is it not enough that Loki did it? It was an act of great heroism.” There's a roughness in his brother's voice, and a warm light in his blue eyes that warms Loki's heart. “He risked himself to save all of us.”

“Be quiet, Thor.” No anger in the old man's voice, – Of course not, he is talking to his _son_. – but perfect clearness. “This is something your brother must tell me.”

“Why, All-Father?” –

“Say 'Father'.” Odin speaks with emotion; if Loki did not know better, he'd think the old man near tears. “As you did before. And stand, son. I would not have you below me.”

“Father...” – The word struggles past his lips. – “Father, you ask why I did what I did. In truth, I know not.” Truth? Why speaks the Liesmith of “truth”? Confused, Loki responds without thought, saying what first comes to his mind only. “Thanos is an enemy,” he says. “He came to me in my dreams and tortured me. Then when he came for my...”

Odin's voice, toned low: “For your brother, Loki?”

He is putting words in Loki's mouth. He is controlling this conversation, as he always has to control everything. But they are true words; they are the words he was trying to say. “Yes, for my brother.” Bitterness floods him. “For the Golden One,” He spits the words. “For the one who is your true son, and not the rejected spawn of a half-mad brute. – For your heir, who walks easily into the role of King, whether or not he has the ability to reign, while I must always be in his shadow...”

Loki swallows. This wasn't what he meant to say. “I did it because I know what Thanos is,” he says, “and I didn't want him to have... I didn't want him to have my brother.”

“Loki!” Thor's voice, choked with emotion. “You feel that way...”

“Shhh.” Again, Odin silences him. “You did it because there are some things that matter to you more than destruction. Is that not right, my son?”

Loki nods, albeit unwillingly. He would not give Odin control of the conversation this way.

“Your ally, Thanos, used you to destroy. He could do that, as long as you thought that's what you wanted.”

“But can he not still use me? His last words...” Loki breaks off, remembering the Titan-God's threats.

“Those were words only. – Tell me, who do you fight for, son?” A change of subject. Loki could figure out Odin's thought process, if he had more time ...and if the emotions were not so strong.

Honest answer, surprised out of him: “I fight for myself.”

Odin nods, as if expecting this. “And?”

“And...” A pause. “...And for those I love,” Loki says.

“That is how you are different from Thanos, who loves only death.” Odin rises from his throne. “My old bones grow cold. Sons, let us walk outside. I would feel the sun warming my shoulders.”

It is the first time Loki has been outside since he returned to Asgard. The air is sweet, the sound of bird-calls inexpressibly musical.

“My son,” – Outside, and walking through Frigga's rose garden, Odin continues. – “I saw the Titan's touch on you, when you came back from Midgard. I saw that in your anger, you had allowed another to control you. – Another who was in truth, no stronger than yourself. If I had told you then, would you have listened?”

Loki does not speak. In truth, they both know the answer.

“I had to keep you away from my people, son, until such time as you realized you did not need to serve as Thanos' tool. My miscalculation:” His voice falters. “I should have realized Thor would go to you as soon as he came back from Midgard.” Odin's voice grows rough. “I very nearly lost both my sons.”

“You should have realized indeed, Father.” Thor pulls Loki close, a tight hug that ...in truth, feels good. “But you should also have realized that _my brother_ would never let me be destroyed.”

“After what you told me... The things he did on Midgard...”

“Mere scratches,” says Thor.

Scratches! The blade in his belly. The cage, meant for the green monster, that would have hurtled him into the sea. His brother is a fool.

“Thor,” – He must speak. He must make himself understood. – “I would have killed you.” ...But would he have? Were any of the blows he dealt mortal ones?

“Why did you do it, brother?” They are under the willow together, in Frigga's garden, with Odin watching and nodding his approval from the bench beside them. When Thor takes his hands and turns to look into his eyes, it is one more strange part, in a very strange situation.

“The invasion?” Loki's lips are stiff. He wonders if he should pull away, look away from his brother's gaze. But he doesn't want to. Thor's hands are warm, and there's love in his blue eyes.

“The entire thing. The...” A gesture. Thor, ever the one with the way with words. “The ...the Bifrost. Brother, why did you throw yourself into the void instead of coming home with Father and me?”

What, go to _their_ home? So they could blame him for what he had already done? Words start to his lips, but Loki does not say them. They belong to a past time, and speak of an anger he feels no more.

“I would not speak in front of All-Father,” he murmurs, and it is all he says.

Odin nods. “Nor need you, my son. He stands, still bending the same warm gaze on Thor and Loki. “I was just thinking to find Frigga. There is a nematode problem in one of her roses that she asked me to look at. – Lest you still worry son, Thanos' hold on you is fully broken.” He puts a hand on Loki's shoulder. “You broke it when you defied him and fought for your comrades. You may speak to your brother freely, and no harm will come to him.”

“All my life you have been there for me.” Scarce waiting for Odin's head to vanish past the hedge, into the rose garden, Thor pulls Loki close in a tight hug. “It felt wrong when we were apart. We should be fighting on the same side, not against each other.”

“You took me for granted.” His head rests against Thor's chest; his words come out muffled, by his big arms.

“And you taught me not to do that.” Thor laughs an uneven laugh, like a laugh-near-tears.

“You'll forget again.” Is it strange that he feels almost near tears himself? “You were never the clever one, brother.”

“That is why I need you. – We complete each other, Loki: Your brains and my strength...” 

The words ring wrong. Thor is taking the initiative again, and telling his little shadow how things will be. Loki pulls free, refuses the tempting warmth of his brother's embrace. “I am not a weakling.”

“No.” Earnest shake of Thor's head; it sends all his blond hair flying. “Nor yet am I the fool you sometimes call me. We are...” He gestures again,. “When I saw you coming to me in that dank cavern, I thought...”

 _You thought what?_

“I thought, 'the world makes sense again, for Loki is friend, not foe.” Fumbling, stumbling words, from one who will never be gifted at speaking. Somewhere along the way Thor has taken his hands again, and the pressure of his big calloused ones feels good. “I thought, 'I have my brother back.'”

“But we are not brothers.”

“No, but it is not just brothers who love.”

“Comrades.” The word comes into his mind, and Loki speaks it. He never thought that word would sound as good to him as it does now. “Shield-brothers. Your friends...” Now it is his turn to fumble. “The Warriors Three... We worked well together in the dream realm.”

Thor rumbles a laugh. “Volstagg told me. He said something about the food Thanos gave him. How did you know he loves rice pudding, brother?”

“The Voluminous?” Wherefore the nervous edge to his own laughter, where Thor's sounds so natural? “Is there a food he does not love? ...And Hogun,” Loki says. “Did he say anything?”

“He said he was now as much a Liesmith as you are...” Thor falters. There's silence for a moment. “He said he hoped you did not believe _all_ of what he said during the contest.”

A nod. Sharper, tenser than he'd like it to be. “No specifics?”

“Should there have been, brother?”

Perhaps the grim warrior is right, Loki thinks. Let the past bury its secrets, and move on from there to have a better future. But how to build anything on pain denied? That way lies only more anger, that others can use against him.

“He said harsh things.” Loki swallows. “They did not have the sound of lies. – He was ever your friend, not mine, Thor. He, and the other two ...and Sif.”

Confusion clouds the blue eyes. Thor looks to be fumbling, and for a long time he is silent. Finally he speaks. “I know not how it lies between you and my friends, brother. I do know you can be comrade without being friend. All you need is to have shared purpose.” It is surprisingly insightful, coming from the clumsy warrior.

“I would be your friend then,” Loki says, “and not your comrade merely.”

Again silence. Then, “I would be more to you than a friend, Loki.”

A brother. He means a brother, despite their different bloodlines, despite the fact that he spawn of a race of monsters. “We are not brothers, Thor...” 

_We can never be..._ The last of his statement never gets spoken. Loki opens his mouth, only to have Thor cover it with his. A kiss? But why? It coincides neither with reality nor with reason. But it feels right, it feels like completion. They are two parts of one whole. One is smart and crafty, the other brave and wholly sincere. How did he ever think to sever the one side from the other?

“Shield-brothers and lovers.” His lips tingle from the roughness of Thor's beard. “More than brothers, more than comrades...”

“Shhh.” Thor puts a big finger over Loki's mouth. “Not everything can be done with words.” _Again he is taking control,_ Loki thinks, but for once, he doesn't mind.


End file.
